


Someplace Safe

by DemonicDelicacy



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Angst, Gen, Minor Character Death, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicDelicacy/pseuds/DemonicDelicacy
Summary: After Alonzo had spotted a stray Pollicle wandering too close to the junkyard, Munkustrap goes to investigate. He finds something unexpected during his search.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Someplace Safe

**Author's Note:**

> All of the other fics I'm writing are getting longer than I expected, so I wrote a little quick thing just to have finished _something_.

Munkustrap stood atop a window ledge, surveying the street ahead of him. Alonzo had noted on his last patrol that there was a stray Pollicle wandering a little too close to the junkyard. He needed to be sure of its whereabouts and whether it could be a threat to any of the Jellicles when they went home to their humans. A small Pollicle he could probably chase off on his own. But if it was big? He’d have to head back to the junkyard and formulate a plan to lure it away.

He shivered as the wind picked up, crouching a little lower to conserve his heat. He had been out on patrol for a few hours now and hadn’t seen any stray dogs around. That should of been a good sign, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was that same nagging feeling he got when a cat was in trouble. His “protector senses” as Demeter would jokingly call it, before telling him he needed to relax more. But his senses had never lead him astray before.

Okay, they did _sometimes_. But he would always prefer to spend extra time making sure everything was okay then to risk letting a cat get hurt.

So he jumped down from his perch, determined to push on for a little while longer. Just enough until he could be certain there wasn’t anything amiss.

He turned down a side street, eyes sweeping the area, on the search for anything odd or out of place. He walked and walked, making turn after turn on the familiar streets. A left here, a right there, ducking under a hole in the gate to cut through. He was just about give up his search and head back when he heard it: a soft, distressed mewing coming from the alley way.

A kitten was in trouble! Munkustrap raced down the street, only slowing once he reached the beginning of the alleyway. It was a short, narrow lane between two buildings, with a chainlink fence closing off the other end. A bunch of garbage cans and bags were piled high in the corner. A light flickered above. There was no kitten in sight.

“Hello?” he called out. “Is anyone there?”

Silence.

The silver tabby slowly stalked down the alley, searching and listening, but the mewing had stopped. He had been so sure he’d heard an injured kitten. Had he misheard? It— _unfortunately_ — wouldn’t have been the first time. He reached the end of the lane, peeking through the chainlink fence to the other side. But it was completely clear. Nothing there either.

Turning around, he glanced at the mountain of garbage bags. Maybe in there?

“Hello? If someone is here, I’m here to help.” He walked around one of the large cans, ready to cut open a bag or two when he froze.

There was a Pollicle lying on the ground behind the can. He tensed up for a moment, expecting the dog to have sensed him, but the beast didn’t move. It was curled in on itself, golden fur caked in dirt, and facing away from Munkustrap. This must’ve been the stray Alonzo warned about. He stepped closer, carefully observing it. He couldn’t see it’s face, but he could see that it wasn’t moving— not even it’s chest. A chill ran through him.

It was dead.

Munk released a breath, the tension in his body being replaced by a strong ache instead. He didn’t hate Pollicles, only wary of them and the threat they could pose to other cats. But even if he did, no creature deserved to die like this, cold and alone, amongst a mountain of trash. He carefully approached, and placed a paw on its frigid body.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke softly.

A low growl rumbled out, and Munkustrap jumped back, tense and at the ready. He looked around, expecting to see another Pollicle, but he was met with nothing.

He glanced back at the body on the floor. _Did... that dog growl?_ He shook his head. That was impossible, he had felt it’s body. It wasn’t just cold, it was hard. That dog had been dead for a while.

The silver tabby stepped closer to the body once again, and once more placed his paw on its back. As he expected, a growl rung out again, but this time he was listening and was able to tell that it was coming from in front of him. In front of the dogs body.

He took a breath to steel his nerves before hopping over the body and turning to look. He had been expecting to see another dog, perhaps a young pup defending it’s mother. Instead he was staring face to face with a another cat.

It was a tabby with white, black and brown patches; a young kit, he could tell, despite how big it was. A male as well.

He was standing on all fours, stance wide, tail straight up and puffed, hackles raised, emitting another low growl. Munk slowly lowered himself to the ground, flattening his ears and making himself as small as possible.

“It’s okay,” he spoke slow and gently, “I’m here to help.”

The kit seemed surprised at that, his posture softening. “You’re gonna help?”

Munk nodded, “Yes. You were the one calling out earlier, right?”

All tension dropped from the kit at that and he nodded vigorously, desperation overtaking any fear he had.

“I— my mama. She’s— she’s been sleeping for a really long time. I can’t wake her.” He stammered.

“Your mother?” Munk looked around, but it was only the two of them around. He started to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Where is she?”

The kit turned around and pawed at the body behind him. “Here,” he said, voice cracking. “My mama.”

The dog was his mother. Munk wasn’t really surprised. A cat raised by dogs? Sure that was weird, but stranger things have happened. The only problem now was...

He moved carefully towards the kit who was still pawing softly at the hard body on the ground, quietly asking his mama to get up. The Jellicle protector placed a paw on the kits shoulder, gently pulling him until he allowed himself to be guided away from the body.

“Why don’t you come with me? I can take you back somewhere safe,” Munk whispered.

“But...” the poor kit glanced back at the body behind him. And Munkustrap felt his heart break in two. Because the kit _knew_. He knew that—

“I don’t think she’s going to wake up.”

He crumpled at that, and Munk rushed forward, wrapping him up in his arms. He let the kit sob and wail as he held him close, the kit holding on to the older cat for dear life. He held him, gently petting his fur as he hummed a soft tune— something his mother once sung to him.

Munk wondered what exactly happened here. How did this dog die? How long did this kit sit here, protecting the body of his mother? How long would he have continued to sit if Munkustrap hadn’t come around?

He held the kit until his tears finally subsided, little hiccups the only sounds he made. Then he shifted the kit in arms until he could see his face.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“George,” the kitten managed, through his sniffles and hiccups.

“Okay, George. I’m going to take you someplace safe.” He looked into George’s wide, brown eyes. “Tonight you become a Jellicle cat.”


End file.
